


Man's Best Friend

by Mouse9



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Everyone needs someone to love.





	Man's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katybaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katybaggins/gifts).



It started with a King James spaniel.

They’d spotted the little brown and white puppy huddled in the corner of a covered shoppe, whining and shivering in the cold. 

Sherlock had let go of Molly’s hand, taking the quick steps against the falling snow to drop to his knees in front of the puppy. 

“Hello there.”  His voice was gentle, a rare tone that Molly heard usually only when they were alone. The puppy took a small step towards him and he scooped it up, cuddling it against his chest, wrapping his great coat around it. “Where did you come from?”

Molly reached them, peering at the small patch of fur she could see peeking from his coat.  “Oh, poor dear, must be almost frozen solid.”  She looked up at her detective who was taking in his surroundings, looking for anyone.  “We can’t leave her out here Sherlock.”

His gaze snapped back to her.  “Of course not.  We can take her back to Baker Street and get her warmed up while I find out if someone lost a dog.”

Molly scratched the top of the dog’s head, smiling when the muzzle poked out just enough from his arms to lick at her fingers.  “How do you know it’s a her?  Silly question,” she amended after a pointed look.  She focused back on the puppy. 

“Your adorable and so tiny.  You’re almost quite swallowed up inside that coat.  I know the feeling.”

“Molly,” Came the warning and she giggled. 

They continued down the street, the puppy finally stopping it’s shivering and content to rest comfortably in his arms as they walked.  Two blocks over the puppy suddenly came to life, yipping. 

“Cinnamon!”  they heard a little girl calling out.  “Cinnamon!”

The puppy barked again, it’s tongue lolling and peeking over Sherlock’s arms to look around. 

“I think we may have found her owner.”  Molly said.

The “owner” was a little girl around the age of ten who was walking the streets with her mother, tearfully yelling for her pet.   The puppy in Sherlock’s arms let out another yip as they approached and the girl spun around, her tear streaked face brightening when she spotted the head of the puppy poking out from Sherlock’s coat.

“Cinnamon!”  she yelled, breaking away from her mother’s grasp and running towards them.  Sherlock gently took the puppy from his coat and squatted down to hand her over to the girl who took the puppy, cuddling her to her face.    The mother approached them as the girl buried her face in the puppy’s fur, laughing as the puppy licked her. 

“Thank you.”  The mother said.  “We’ve been walking the streets for over two hours now, where did you find her?”

“About two blocks back that way.”  Molly pointed behind them.  “She was huddled under an shoppe covering.  Sherlock found her.”

The mother’s eyes went wide as she realized who she was standing in front of.  “Oh.  Well, thank you.  I know this isn’t your usual case.”

He merely inclined his head.  “I just happened to be in the right place this time.  I’m glad she found her owner.”

“Thank you.”  The girl said as she stood up; the puppy now nestled inside her coat. 

“Of course.”

He stood there, hands in his pockets as he watched the mother and daughter turn back towards their home, the sounds of the puppy’s yipping muffled in the snowfall.  Molly waited a beat and then slid her arm under his and leaned into him. 

“You did a good thing.”

“Hmmm?  Oh,” He looked down at her, pulling his hand from his pocket to take ahold of her hand, their fingers entangling.  “Just happened to be at the right place. Didn’t do anything.”

“In her eyes, you did.”  She smiled up at him.  “She’ll be telling all of her schoolmates how the great Sherlock Holmes found her puppy.”

“Hmmm.”  She could see the slight tilt of his lips as they continued walking.

 

* * *

 

The second was a bloodhound.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Molly stood at her front step staring at the dog laying on the sidewalk and the consulting detective who looked livelier than the dog whose leash he was holding. 

“Who’s this?”

“This is Toby.  He belongs to Craig.  He lets me take him for walks sometimes.”

“How did you meet Craig?”

“Got him off some charges with the American CIA.  Let’s go for a walk.”

She shut the door behind her, looking at the dog, who had lifted his head and was now watching her with baleful eyes, then looking up at the detective.

“Toby?”

“Contrary to what you might think, your ridiculous cat does not have the patent on his name.”

Ignoring his comments, she knelt down to scratch the ears and head of the bloodhound who was now struggling to his feet and looking at her, tail wagging.

“Don’t you listen to him Toby, he’s just a grumpy old man.”

“I’m not old!”  Came the indignant response and Molly laughed.  The dog, Toby, merely stood there, eyes closed in bliss and letting her scratch at his ears.

“Walk.”  Sherlock said again and with a final pat, Molly stood up. 

“Fine.  Let’s go for a walk.”

“Toby.  Go.”  Sherlock commanded and with a lurch, the bloodhound lumbered off, the two humans following him.  Molly slid her hand into his free one, smiling up at him. 

“You know you’re still my favorite.”  She teased.  He didn’t answer but his cheeks were pink. 

“I’m not grumpy either.”  He complained. 

“Of course, you aren’t,” She agreed as they walked towards the park. 

 

They walked the park for an hour, Sherlock allowing Toby to decide what direction they were to go.  Finally, Toby decided he just wanted to lounge in the sun for a bit so they took a seat on the closest bench while Toby lay in the grass next to Sherlock’s feet. 

Molly spotted a cart selling coffee and came back with two cups, giving one to Sherlock before taking a seat next to him. 

“You do this often?”  she asked, waving towards the bloodhound.  “Take Toby out for walks?”

“On and off, when I can.  Craig prefers staying indoors so beside the quick romp in the back-garden Toby doesn’t get much in the way of sunlight and fresh air.”

“Plus, you like Toby.”

The dog lifted his head at his name and then lumbered to his feet, walked the couple of steps to where Molly sat only to fall back down with a thump between them.  Laughing, Molly reached down to scratch his head. 

“I don’t blame you, he is quite a charmer.”

Beside her, Sherlock bent to run his hand over Toby’s fur, his fingers brushing against hers in the process.

“Toby is nice to have around at times.”  He admitted. 

 

They walked Toby home, the poor bloodhound walking slower than he had that morning.

“I think we wore him out.”  Molly said, her hand warm in Sherlock’s.  “Poor Toby.” 

The knocked on Craig’s door and handed ownership back to him, but not without one final head scratch from Molly. 

As they left the flat, Sherlock tugged his coat together. 

“Chips?”  he suggested. 

“How about dinner instead.”  She opted, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling.  He gave a nod and tucked her hand around his arm, patting it once. 

“Dinner is acceptable.  Angelo’s?”

Molly leaned into him, gathering his warmth, no longer trying to hide the smile.  “Angelo’s sounds lovely.”

 

 

* * *

 

The third was an overheard argument between John and Sherlock.

Molly stepped into the warmth of 221B’s front parlour and tugged off her coat.  Even from the front entrance, she could hear voices carrying from the upstairs flat. 

Taking the steps quickly, she stepped onto the landing hearing John’s voice first.

“Who has time?  Not I, I barely have time to feed both of us much less take care of an animal!”

“Molly!”  Sherlock called out before she could even put a foot into the flat.  “Explain to John the benefits of having a pet.”

She glanced at Sherlock, standing in the front room with his dressing gown covering a suit and John wearing his usual trousers and jumper, arms folded.  Before she could say anything, a small tug came at her trouser legs and she looked down, smiling widely at Rosie’s bright face grinning up at her. 

“Hello darling,” she cooed, scooping up the eighteen-month-old and positioning her on her hip before stepping further into the flat.

“Pets have been known to reduce stress and extend quality of life.”  She admitted with a small grin to John.  “Personally, I’d suggest a cat.”

Sherlock gave her an affronted look. 

“No.  I’m not cleaning out litter boxes all day.”

“Technically they have a litter box that can clean itself.”  She told him. 

“Molly!”  Sherlock exclaimed still looking at bit betrayed. 

“’at!”  Rosie repeated.  Molly smiled at her. 

“Correct Rosie darling, cat.”

“I don’t know why everyone is insistent on me getting Rosie a pet.”  John said, glancing at Sherlock.  “I saw your brother the other day and he suggested a goldfish.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow rose, his mouth twisting unamused.    
“Yes, well, my brother has a warped sense of humour.”

“Maybe when Rosie gets older, we’ll revisit the idea of a pet but right now, with her learning how to walk and getting into everything, chasing after two mess makers doesn’t seem quite appealing.”

 

Molly crossed the room and sat down on the couch, pulling Rosie into her lap and grabbing a picture book laying on the table. 

“Of course, John, you’re the one who’s going to have to take care of whatever you get in the end, but when that time comes, I still suggest a cat.”

“Don’t listen to her, she is clearly biased.”

“Mmhmm.  Weren’t you two off on a case?  I thought that’s why I was over here to mind Rosie?”

“Right.”  Tossing off his dressing gown and picking up his greatcoat, he headed towards the flat entrance, snatching his scarf from the coat hook. 

“Thanks for watching her Molly.”  John said as he followed. 

“My pleasure.”

“Text you on our way back.”  Sherlock called out as he left the flat. 

“I still have to get used to him being considerate.”  John muttered, picking up his own coat.

“Are you coming John?” Sherlock bellowed from the steps below. 

Molly giggled as she watched John leave the flat, leaving she and Rosie alone.    
“Well Miss Rosie,” she said to the toddler on her lap.  “It’s just you and me again. What shall we read today?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” 

Molly had paid for a taxi to take them down to Tremar Gardens, telling the driver to stop at the corner and they’d walk the rest of the way. 

She tucked her arm into his as they walked.  For once, he hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on in her mind or what she had planned. 

“Mmmm, not a fan of surprises, things tend to go wrong.”

“Trust me, you’ll like this surprise.”

The approached an inset building and Molly turned into it, tugging on his arm. 

“This way.”

“Molly, what are we…”  he scanned the sign, the building, the noise in the background, all the while his eyes widening.  “Are we…this is a shelter.”

“Yep.”  She answered, popping her P.  She pushed open the front door, tugging him in after her.  “You’ve been obsessing over one particular thing these past weeks so I thought we’d look.”

The office was nice, the woman behind the counter smiling at them as they entered. 

“Hello,” Molly let go of his arm and approached the counter.  “I made an appointment for two?”

“Hooper.”  The woman read from the computer.  “Welcome.  If you’d like to come with me?”

Sherlock stood there, seemingly at a loss.  Molly glanced back at him worriedly.  “Are you all right?”

“You did this…for me?”

A slow smile slid across her lips.  “There’s no guarantee that you’ll find a dog you like, but if you do, then I’m offering to help.  Mrs. Hudson already gave her approval, as long as it’s not incredibly huge or tears up the flat…well no more than you already do.”

He reached out and grasped her wrist, tugging her towards him.  His other hand slid up to cup her cheek and he kissed her gently. 

“Thank you.”  She gave him another sweet smile. 

“Of course.”

 

They followed the woman, Sarah, towards the back where the cages we located.  The loud sounds of barking echoed from the concrete walls as they stepped in. 

Molly immediately walked towards several cages, cooing at the dogs inside as Sherlock followed slowly after her, his arms clasped behind his back as he gazed on each dog, studying each one.

Sarah talked about each dog individually as Molly asked follow-up questions.  They walked through three different rooms full of dogs, Sherlock silent the entire time. 

Molly watched him as he scanned the dogs.  Finally, she excused herself and walked back to where he was reading the papers on a terrier. 

“Nothing?”

His brow was furrowed.  “Other than general annoyance regarding people who would merely throw their pets in the refuse like yesterday’s trash when they get older, no.”

Molly tried not to look downhearted.  “Well, there are two other places out here we can look, and we can always come back and look again.”

He turned his gaze to her, giving her a small smile.  “It’s fine Molly, I really don’t need a dog.  The fact that you thought enough to plan this is…”  his voice trailed off and he glanced around her towards a cage towards the back.  Molly turned around. 

“What?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her just a bit to the right and strolled towards the cage that had caught his eye.  Dropping into a squat, he peered in. 

Sitting in the back was an older black and white collie mix watching him quietly.  The dog, he could tell, was older, possibly ten or eleven, and its entire muzzle was black. 

Sarah and Molly walked towards him, stopping just shy of the cage. 

“We just got him in.  Poor thing, the couple got a puppy for their kids and it was all too much noise for this fellow.”

Sherlock blocked her out, letting Molly do all the talking with the woman.  He focused on the dog.

Neither moved for a long time, merely watching each other.  Slowly, Sherlock raised his hand, placing it on the wire opening of the cage.  After another moment, the dog climbed to its feet and slowly walked towards him, sitting down once it was close enough to reach.  One black paw raised, meeting Sherlock’s hand on the other side of the cage. 

“This one.”  he suddenly said, catching the attention of the woman.  “I want this one.”

Sarah gave a confused smile.  “Okay, are you sure.  He’s sweet, to be sure, but he doesn’t do well with too much excitement or other pets.”

“He’ll fit in fine at Baker Street.”

He knew exactly the temperament of this dog and how well he would fit in with Sherlock’s new life.  He didn’t believe in coincidences, but there was something that had drawn him to this particular dog.  Molly picked up the info sheet on the top of the cage and scanned it. 

“Sherlock.”  He could hear the smile in her voice, it was what made him glance up at her.  She was grinning as she held out the info sheet to him.  “You need him.”

He took the info sheet from her and scanned the contents.  When he reached the name, his eyes widened. He looked back at the dog. 

“Hello Blackbeard.”

The dog’s tail thumped against the floor, his paw falling back to the ground as his head tilted slightly to the left at his name. Distantly he heard Molly talking to Sarah and then the door to the cage opened, making it easier to see the dog.  Blackbeard stood up and carefully forward until his body was against Sherlock’s.  He smiled fondly as the dog licked at his hand, his other hand digging into the soft fur.  He lowered his face towards the dog. 

“I’m Yellowbeard.  I believe we’re going to get along just fine.

 

 

**Months later-**

 

Molly walked up the stairs to Sherlock’s flat, hearing the violin as she entered. 

As usual, the door was open and Sherlock was by the window still trying to figure out notes to his newest composition.  On the couch on the other side of the sitting room Blackbeard lifted his head to see who’d walked in before looking back at the sleeping toddler who was curled up next to him. 

Surprisingly, the dog had taken to Rosie like they had always been together.  He’d also taken to Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson wonderfully, content to lay on the couch or his cot on the floor by Sherlock’s chair and let everyone pass by him. 

Even John admitted that the dog had been a good idea for Sherlock, both pet and owner seemed to counterbalance each other.

Not wanting to interrupt him, Molly walked towards the couch and the dog, whose tail wagged twice before realizing that the movement might wake Rosie.  She bent down to scratch him behind the ears. 

“Hello Blackbeard, how goes guarding Baker Street today?”

“He’s doing an admirable job, as always.”  The music stopped and Sherlock walked to them, the violin and bow still in his hand.  “Today his job is to guard a sleeping Rosie and he is exceeding superbly.”

Blackbeard’s head lifted to his Master’s words and pets, remaining where he was. 

Molly smiled.  “I’m so glad you found him. 

Sherlock dropped a quick kiss on her forehead.  “He found me.”

“You found each other.”

Blackbeard tail thumped once more in agreement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I didn't get the bonus points, but after S4E3, using either of those names seemed...wrong. But I did stay within the pirate universe.


End file.
